


we're still fighting it

by cashewdani



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: F/M, The Michael Scott Paper Company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-29
Updated: 2009-06-29
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1288129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cashewdani/pseuds/cashewdani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Ok, Pam, this beach background changes with the weather.  Do you see how it's sunny and the sky is blue and it's gorgeous out?  You can't tell me you want to waste that weather in a basement."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're still fighting it

"How was your day today?" his mother asks, because she always asks on the drive home. Like it's freshman year all over again and he doesn't yet have his license. In fact, pretty much everything about his life at the moment makes him feel like he's back in school. His mother makes his lunch and his dad has him mowing the lawn, and it's kind of like a break and a punishment at the same time. Mostly a punishment though.

God, he used to have his own apartment, and a company car and a life, and now he has whatever this weird, regressive thing is. And on top of it, he's supposed to be grateful. "It was fine." 

"Did you pick up any more clients?" 

He thinks the you is referring to him specifically and not to the company, but he's already exhausted his lead of the office his dad works at with no success, so, the answer to that would be no, Mom, but thanks for bringing it up. "Michael got us one more. He says when we hit five he's going to bring in a cake for us."

"Well, that'll be nice. He certainly has been a good boss to you, over the years." She smiles like she's trying to convince him, and it takes all of his control not to roll his eyes.

The thing with his mom is that she's always thinking anything bad he has to say about anyone is because he's cynical and not because, say, they're actually crazy. Like, she thought Kelly was a sweet girl he should have paid more attention to. He honestly has no idea most of the time how she raised him and he still ended up so screwed up.

"Yep, who knows where I'd be without Michael." He can tell that she's about to say something about his tone, or bring up the fact that he still hasn't cleaned up the cigarette butts from the bushes outside his bedroom window, so he slips the buds of his Ipod into his ears. Sophomore year went exactly like this, except he was may more into _Dave Matthews_ back then.

\-----

"So why exactly was Ryan's mom picking him up in a station wagon?" Jim is cutting vegetables for a salad while Pam stirs a pot of pasta. Looking at the boiling water, she can't help but think about how they are going to be eating a lot of pasta in the upcoming weeks. She's already a little tired of it to be honest. A career is better than steak though, right? Right?

"Probably because station wagons were popular cars around the time she was raising her children."

"He still has his license though, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, but he sold his car before he moved to New York and I think all a bowling alley salary entitles you to is maybe, at best, a tricked out bike." She fishes out a piece of spaghetti and throws it at the wall by the clown painting. It sticks.

"So he's gone from a BMW to a BMX. That's a fantastic life trajectory there."

"Be nice." She's annoyed by Ryan as much as the next sensible person would be, but there's just something about being trapped in a tiny room with someone for 8 hours a day that makes you kind of protective of them. Which must be why she's letting Michael call her in the middle of the night with ideas, or picking up Twizzlers for Ryan after he said his mother didn't get them with the groceries that week. Because it's almost like they're some twisted little family now, and it's fine if she insults them, but not if anyone else does.

"Since when do I have to be nice about Ryan Howard?"

"Since now, apparently." 

"If I didn't know better, I'd think that you were losing your mind." 

"I lost it a long time ago when I let you buy me this house." She tries to say it without laughing, but fails, and Jim's kissing her in between talking about the benefits of both shag carpeting and wood paneling. And when he's done, she looks at him, with his tie loosened, who is going to watch _CSI_ with her later despite how he thinks every episode is the same, and who let her make this crazy life altering decision even if it means he's going to have to eat pasta and be nice about a guy who once tried to get him fired, and it's like she's learning all over again just how lucky she actually is. How maybe it's not everything she's ever wanted, but it's something, and that's enough. "Have I thanked you yet today for being amazing?"

"I think you did when I didn't finish the orange juice this morning, but I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"Thank you for being amazing, Jim Halpert."

He kisses her between the eyes. "Thank you for making me be amazing."

By the time they sit down to eat, pasta doesn't seem too bad.

\-----

One Wednesday, Michael has to take his mother to the eye doctor, but he forgets until she's calling wondering where he is. So Pam and Ryan were already there, sitting around the poker table, throwing Cheez Balls at one another inbetween making mostly unsuccessful cold calls, while he's running out the door to Dixon City.

After an hour, they haven't picked up a single client, but they've set a new record of 37 tosses without a miss.

"We should go somewhere," Ryan says, wiping orange cheese dust on a paper towel.

"Like where? We're at work."

"Michael's not here. And it's not like we're going to pick up any clients without him, so I don't see why we should stay."

"There's other stuff we could do."

"Oh, so have you decided to run copies, because I certainly haven't."

"Ryan, come on."

He clicks some buttons on his laptop and then angles the screen towards her. It's his GMail account, but opened to the Michael Scott Paper Company folder only, so all she can see is 17 e-mails from Michael with subjects like FW: Awesome and HI FROM ACROSS THE ROOM. "Ok, Pam, this beach background changes with the weather. Do you see how it's sunny and the sky is blue and it's gorgeous out? You can't tell me you want to waste that weather in a basement."

"Of course I don't, but we're grownups." She stresses that word, grownups, like he needs to be reminded, and honestly he probably does. Whenever he talks about his life, she kind of feels like he's detailing the plot of a WB show. "We can't just sneak out because no one's watching us."

"Why not? What's stopping us?" He laughs. "Pam, I'm trying to reach out to you. Because I'm going regardless, but it would be far better if you came along."

"So I can't rat you out?"

"No! So we can do something fun together." Pam doesn't know if this whole scenario seems flirtatious because it is, or because her experience with flirting is just so limited. "Come on, you want to, I can tell." He's coaxing her and it's working. She glances again at the beach scene on the laptop.

"Well, that depends. What are we going to do?"

"We could go to the park," he suggests, already packing up his stuff.

"I'm not going to go to the park in the middle of the day without a kid. People are going to think we're there to molest their children."

"Because you really look like a pedophile." His sarcasm, yeah, that will never get old.

"Well, of course I don't, but you definitely do."

"You're beyond hilarious, Pam. I can't believe you're not doing your own stand up routine." Ryan is clicking the phones over to voicemail, like anyone's going to try to get in touch with them, and checking the fax. "What if we go hang at my house then? My mom's delivering meals on wheels this morning, she won't be around."

She gapes at him. "Do you honestly hear yourself? I feel like we're talking about skipping gym 4th period to go and get high before art class or something."

"Wait, you used to do that? He stops what he's doing and stares like this is the greatest thing to ever happen to him. "Goody two shows Pam Beesly would show up baked in high school? I want to buy a billboard about this!"

She hadn't meant to say it, but for whatever reason she did, and now it's just out there. At least Michael's not here though. He'd make her start going to meeting with Ryan otherwise. "We're not talking about this."

"Oh, we are clearly talking about this. I can't believe you! This is incredible. Do you still do it? You can tell me." 

She ignores him, and attempts to change the topic. "So, you want to go hang out at your house? Is that what you're saying?" Pam nods and makes her voice overexpressive, like he's a dog or a small child and will get swayed by her enthusiasm.

And maybe he's exactly like those things because he says, "You'll go?"

"If we don't mention me smoking pot again, I'll go."

He passes her her bag. "Then let's go."

\-----

She's gotten used to chauffeuring Ryan around. Taking him to grab lunch, visiting potential clients, escaping Michael to run errands they make up. He even keeps his radio transmitter for his iPod in her car, along with a pack of cigarettes, breath mints and a phone charger. And yes, Pam is aware of the fact that anyone observing this would think Ryan is the guy that she's engaged to. Jim's mentioned it.

"Before we head to my place, do you have a change of clothes?" Ryan asks, pushing the cigarette lighter in and putting on some Jay Z song he's apparently been really into recently because she's heard it at least 6 times.

"What exactly do you think we'll be doing that required I change clothes?" She's hoping her face is conveying how disgusted she's pretending to be.

"Ew, Pam, not like that, gross. I really don't want to have sex with you today. Seriously, don't try it."

"Oh, well, thank you." The sarcasm, she's realized, is minorly contagious.

"Shut up, you're gorgeous and I liked you best at Dunder Mifflin."

"More than Kelly?"

"Sometimes more than Kelly."

"More than Karen?" because of course Jim told her about that.

She thinks he blushes a little, which is darling, really, but tries to cover it up with a smirk. "More than Karen. But you're with Jim who I hate a little more than usual for sharing that with you, so, no, I'm not planning on ravaging you this afternoon."

Pam can't help giggling. "Ravaging?"

"Alright, you're really making me regret asking you along. Do you or do you not have sneakers and a change of clothes?"

"I do."

"Good because I'm taking you skateboarding."

\-----

He's really kind of expecting her to turn off the car and head right back into the building. In fact, it's almost shocking that she backs out and starts driving to his house without so much as a comment. Pam always has a comment for him it seems.

In the dead space without either of their voices, he's thinking about how he was too adamant about not wanting to sleep with her, and that she's coming to hang out at his parents' house like they're sixteen. Maybe this whole thing is stupid.

She shakes him out of his thoughts though, asking, "You really know how to skateboard?"

"Pam, there's not exactly much to do when you work at a bowling alley."

"So you just learned how to skateboard a few weeks ago?"

"I worked at the same bowling alley in high school, but that's neither here nor there." He has no idea what it is about her, but for whatever reason, in front of Pam he's always a little more honest. Even when it's embarrassing. No, actually, especially when it's embarrassing.

"Oh," is all that she says. Not like she's ashamed of him but that she gets he's ashamed for himself.

\-----

While she's changing in the downstairs bathroom, he's trying to find a place to shove the dirty laundry that's just been accumulating next to his closet and deciding if he should put Maxim somewhere that isn't his nightstand. His mother is right, he's disgusting and no one but her will ever be able to tolerate him.

It's kind of a lost cause and even though she seems to take her time, when Pam knocks on the door frame, the room looks nearly identical to when he first came up. "So this is your room."

He looks around at his little league trophies and the needlepoint his grandmother made for him when he was born and the paddle from his fraternity. Ryan Howard, here is your life. "What you expected?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Except I thought for sure you'd have some ratty childhood memento on your bed. Did you hide it?"

"Blankie bit it in the wash when I was 6, you're out of luck."

"That must have been hard."

"It was over 20 years ago, I've recovered."

"Mmmhmm," she comments, like she's waiting for something more.

"It's not why I have a drug problem."

"Sure. Of course not." She raises her eyebrows like she's trying to be serious, but she can't suppress a smile.

Seeing her in his room, wearing her yoga pants and her hair in a ponytail, he wishes she was his girlfriend. That he had spent more time with her when Jim was away, or with Karen, so that he could kiss her right now while she's looking at his DVD collection. Like there aren't millions of other variables deciding whether he and Pam end up together.

\-----

Ryan's parents have the same set up her parents used to have in their house, with various family photos leading the way up the stairs. It's like a staple in every suburban home she's ever been in. Even in the house she's living in with Jim, you can see the outlines of where his parents had hung their pictures. She noticed on the way up, Ryan and his sisters on Christmas in front of the tree, and them on the beach somewhere, and visiting Disneyworld. He's always in the middle. Their graduation photos are towards the top, followed only by his older sister's wedding photo. And it's so sad, but there Ryan is, in his maroon gown, with those same stupid blond highlights in his hair. 

"I have to ask, did you initially get these highlights because Pacey made it look so good on _Dawson's Creek_?" She points at the picture, even though she kind of wants to touch his hair.

"Girls went crazy over Pacey."

"It wasn't because of his highlights."

He actually looks a little hurt. "You don't like the look, Pam?"

"It's...a little young?" She gestures at the picture. "I mean, you're 18 here."

"17."

Pam knows that Michael's company is a step up from the bowling alley but is still a gigantic step down from corporate. That Ryan's been living a life for awhile now that's more acceptable for a high schooler. Seriously, she's over here to watch him skateboard until his mother comes home to make dinner, but still, he's better than this. She has to believe that.

"I just...I miss the way you used to look."

"Yeah, sometimes I do too." Saying it, letting himself be vulnerable, unfortunately only makes him look younger. And the skateboard hanging off his fingers doesn't really help. But, just like every time he opens himself up a little, he slams the door shut, blockading it with his douchey persona. "But right now, I'm more concerned with having the opportunity to watch you bust your ass."

"I can't believe I'm doing this. You better realize how meaningful this is."

\-----

And he does, honestly, he does. Because before today, Pam was sort of his friend that he didn't have to keep up appearances in front of any more, but who wasn't someone he thought he'd hang out with or anything. And he gets that's because of him, because he’s a dick and she's a sweet person and of course she's not going to want to spend time with him if she doesn't have to. But here she is, willingly breaking the rules to do something she has absolutely no personal interest in.

And he’s kind of just waiting for the gotcha moment, but as soon as they’re outside, she’s asking, “How do you do this? Show me.”

So he puts the board down on the ground and moves around, doing a kick flip, an ollie along the curb. And Pam sits in the grass and watches him, and it feels weird and nice at the same time. GMail was right, the weather is gorgeous, and being out in the sunshine, away from work and with a pretty girl, he can almost forget the bad shit. AKA his life.

After a few minutes, he slides in front of her and offers, “You up for this? You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” and she steps on the board, hands out at her sides like she’s walking a tightrope or going to fly away.

She’s slow at first, hesitant, and even though it makes sense, it’s also sad too, like Pam’s never going to let herself just give in to something fully, even if it’s something she asked to do in the first place. But then she’s pushing off a little more sure, still wobbly, still not really going much of anywhere, but better than she was.

And just when he’s about to offer up congratulations, the board slips out from underneath her and she's falling, elbow scraping the pavement. He hears her quick intake of breath, sees the tears well up in her eyes, and seriously, seriously hopes he hasn't just broken her arm. "Hey, you're okay. You're okay." It's the same tactic he's heard his sister use with his niece when she falls. Like if she's distracted she's not going to realize she actually is not okay. "Can you bend you arm?" he asks.

"Yeah, I think so." She moves the joint, and a few bright red drops of blood trickle down her tricep. "Shit."

\-----

Pam should have known better than to try and learn to do this when she's out of the target demographic by over a decade. But still, it felt good up until the fall, the way she always feels when she's trying something new, like maybe it's going to change her life some way. But now, her elbow stings and Ryan's hands on her arm feel too warm and comforting and it's like the whole thing was just to make her seem stupid. 

"Be careful," she says as his fingers move closer to the scrape.

"What, do you have AIDS?"

She sighs, "Don't joke about AIDS."

"You sound like Michael."

"Also, please don't tell me I sound like Michael."

"Okay, you're right. Sorry." He rolls the sleeve of her t-shirt up, but it's a little too late for it. "Let's go inside and fix your war wound." Pam must roll her eyes even if she's trying not to because he follows with, "Alright, I won't joke about war either."

\-----

Blood always makes her a little woozy, not in the way that she's actually going to pass out or anything, but it just sets her on edge. And maybe that's showing on her face, or he can remember how she had to leave the room when Kevin sliced his hand open trying to cut a bagel, but he's being so delicate with her. Sweet almost. Pam never thought she'd be calling Ryan Howard sweet.

But he keeps telling her to look at his face instead of her elbow, and lets her squeeze his free hand while he pours peroxide over it even though it doesn't sting as much as she's expecting it to. In the end, he puts a few _Transformers_ Band-Aids on the scrapes, saying, "You would think my mom had bought these for my nephew, but they were in my Easter basket. And yes, I still get an Easter basket." She is not in any way surprised. "Alright, I think you're patched up. You want some ice?"

"I would love some ice, thank you."

So, he gets her the ice, and turns on the TV and they sit there in his living room, watching an episode of _Mystery Diagnosis_ Pam's seen at least twice because it's either this or _A Baby Story_. Somewhere between the AIDS test and actually finding a diagnosis, Ryan makes them Spaghetti O's, and they get into a discussion about whether it would be better to be on one of those shows about being in a massive family or being some sort of medical marvel.

"I just don't know how you can say that being massively obese or missing limbs is in any way a better choice than being in a big family," Pam says.

"Ok, 1, all of those people on those medically incredible shows have girlfriends, if not wives and 2, I can barely stand being one of three kids."

"Well, big families used to be the norm."

"Because people were too busy dying off from things like a cold or mule accidents. It was insurance that your family continued!"

Pam giggles. "Mule accidents?"

"Ask Dwight, he'll tell you all about it."

"I think I'm good."

"Suit yourself." 

Another episode starts and her elbow doesn't hurt so much anymore, and apparently she falls asleep on his shoulder because the next thing she knows his mother has come home, yelling from the other room for him to help her. It's so much like being in Roy's house when they were 17 that she has to shake herself and really look at Ryan for a second to figure out where and when she is.

He looks at her, with that same _I'm sorry and embarrassed_ expression that she's come to associate with a majority of their interactions, and it makes her stomach hurt. That part of it is new.

\-----

Ryan knows he should probably wake her up, like today hasn't already been way too much familiarity shared between the two of them, but he just lets her sleep. And it was a nice day, and he's feeling good, and that's the reason he takes the Ziploc bag that's mostly water off her lap, and pulls blanket over her instead. Plus the whole unrequited love thing, but mostly the other stuff.

He turns the TV down, still watching this woman try to figure out why she's constantly thirsty as Pam breathes evenly on his neck. He'd be lying if he said he didn't think about kissing her forehead. Of then waking her up and doing a lot more than that.

But his mother is coming in through the garage and asking him to help with groceries which wakes Pam up before any of it really means anything. Like it was going to mean anything anyway. 

"Whose car is in the driveway?" She's saying, while walking into the living room. "Oh, is this Pam? From work? Hi, I'm Mrs. Howard." She's smiling, but Ryan can tell from her eyebrows that she's wondering why the two of them are here alone in the middle of the day. Like he's a child who can't share a blanket with a girl because they might be doing things underneath it or something.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Howard."

"I'm sorry my son can't display better hospitality than offering you spaghetti in a can," she says. "Did Michael not need you all day?"

"No, he had an engagement," Pam replies, pushing the blanket off and already reaching for her shoes. "I should go." 

"You don't have to," Ryan says, really wishing she won't while knowing she's already pretty much out the door. Not that he blames her.

"Yeah, I think I do. Thank you, Mrs. Howard, it was nice to finally meet you."

"You too, Pam. Come and visit us again."

"I will," but Ryan thinks maybe she's just being polite.

"Let me walk you out." He picks up her gym bag and she follows him out to the driveway. "I'm sorry, about my mom. If that was weird."

"No, no, of course not. She seems really sweet."

"I'd use another word."

"Stop," she slaps at his arm, kind of playfully, kind of nice. "Thanks for the fun day."

"Oh yeah, a fucked up elbow and reality TV so boring you passed out. Do you even know what fun is?"

She doesn't answer the question and just reaches out for her bag. "We should do it again, maybe."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Pam." He waves as she pulls out and brings in the detergent from the trunk of his mom's car, dreading all the questions she's going to ask him.

\-----

The first thing Jim asks her when he gets home is, "Are those robots on your arm?"

"They're _Transformers_."

"What did you do to yourself?"

Pam doesn't know why she doesn't just tell him the truth, about going to Ryan's, or skateboarding, especially because she thinks he won't care. Still, she only says, "I fell."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good," she says with a smile, and she means it, weirdly enough.

After dinner, he brings her one of those little ice packs she puts in with her lunch and kisses the spot that's the most tender, as if he knows. And still, she thinks about Ryan's hands while his mouth is there. She doesn't want to, but she does.


End file.
